Math Test
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
Ms. Miller listened absently to the ticking of the clock, the only sound left in the classroom after her students simultaneously lowered their heads. Every last millisecond used to count, she remembered as she gazed longingly at the silver medal on her desk. Funny how a single leg injury could change everything.
—
Mary scribbled on her test paper as if she were deciphering a secret code for the military. Her father promised he would take her out for ice cream if she passed the semester with straight A’s. She was beginning to wonder if he would ever come back and make good on that promise, but for now, her only concern was mastering algebra.
—
Jane subconsciously snapped her pencil in half when she saw Michael staring at Laura’s behind. How silly she had been to think that pen-dropping incident was their special moment. He could beg all he wanted; she wasn’t helping him cheat this time.
—
As always, the numbers sat there quietly and encouraged George like puzzle pieces falling into place under his pencil. They never bullied him, or yelled at each other in front of him, or got drunk and beat him until he cried. George realized then why he loved math so much: it was the only thing in his life that made any sense.
—
By the time the bell rang and Johnny handed in his test, only half the problems had answers, and he knew half of those were wrong. In the hallway, he whistled a merry tune as he crossed paths with the cute girl who was a year behind him. Maybe next year, he would finally get to sit next to her.
These pieces are based on What If? Exercise 97: “Nanofictions”. The exercise is to write five flash fiction pieces of three sentences each, which may or may not be connected by a common detail. The objective is to understand how to focus immediately on a troubled situation and learn how to identify the details of drama. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The New Girl
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
She thought she was so special, that gringa. Everyone liked her. Everyone wanted to talk to her. Just because she came from America. So what? The girl couldn’t even speak a word of Portuguese! What was she doing in a seventh-grade classroom in Brazil? The whole first week she was here, she didn’t open her mouth once. Who wants to be friends with a girl like that?
She was useful for English class; I’ll give her that. She even kept a Portuguese-English dictionary in her desk at all times. I borrowed it more than once. She never offered it, though. She liked the popular girls better, I could tell. They were the ones who always talked to her and tried to teach her Portuguese. I went to school with these girls for years and they wouldn’t give me the time of day. This stranger was around for five minutes and somehow she deserved all their attention? Please. She wasn’t even as pretty as them. I bet they were just using her for help with English too.
One day, the Geography teacher made us work in groups of three. My friend and I got stuck with the American girl. I could see up close that she wasn’t so special as all that. I pointed out her flaws to my friend: that stupid ponytail, those dorky glasses, the silly way she’d tilt sideways when she wrote. I didn’t think she’d understand what I was saying anyway. Not until I saw the pitiful look in her eyes. She went home in tears. Crybaby.
My friend and I got in trouble the next day. Turns out the gringa had told her mom what happened, and her mom had talked to the principal. On top of everything else, the girl was a tattletale.
She thought she was so special, that gringa. But I knew what she really was: no better than me.
This story is based on What If? Exercise 66: “Bully”. The exercise is to write about a factual incident from the first-person perspective of someone who bullied you as a child. The objective is to practice writing a “villain” by taking over the persona of someone capable of brutality and making that character three-dimensional. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The Hunt
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
She ran as fast as she could, faster than she knew she could, faster than she had ever run in her life, down the hill, into the forest, past the young saplings she hardly knew toward the old towering oaks she had known as a cub, the same oaks she hoped would be a haven to her own cubs, the beloved litter of four she had carried for nearly two months and for whom she had traveled so far to find food, for whom she had almost found a hearty meal until the dogs had sent her fleeing, the very dogs who had made of her a widow since the day they had torn her mate apart and their men had mounted his beautiful red tail on their wall, leaving her to raise four hungry pups on her own, pups who desperately needed her to survive this chase and make it home alive, and the thought of their innocent faces put a spring in her heels as she sprinted from the sounds of barking and hooves pounding on the cold hard earth, leaving them farther and farther behind in the evening mist, until at last she heard nothing but her own breathing and the rustling of leaves under her paws, and before she knew it, she was diving headfirst into the safety of her den and the warmth of her children’s tiny bodies huddling around her, exhausted yet relieved that they might have a chance to see the coming of another spring.
This story is based on What If? Exercise 90: “The Journey of the Long Sentence”. The exercise is to write a short short story that’s only one sentence long. The objective is to understand how we can shape our writing in a similar manner that our minds function, building a linear order for observations that often consist of many overlapping aspects. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Cookie Crumbs
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
Mama said not to touch the cookie jar. I should have listened.
I only meant to take one. I didn’t think the jar would be so heavy.
I tried not to cry while Papa yelled at me in the kitchen. It was scary how his angry voice always carried through the house. The whole time, Mama was there cleaning up the porcelain shards and cookies scattered across the floor. She never said a word.
Papa sent me to my room, said I would stay there for the rest of the week. Only when I closed the door behind me did I finally open my right hand, where the stolen cookie rested half-broken in my palm. I’ll never forget eating it.
I remember the sweet smell of day-old dough as I finally heard Mama’s voice downstairs, telling Papa he had been too hard on me. I remember the taste of oatmeal filling my mouth as he yelled that she was always too soft with us. I remember the crunch of hard chocolate chips between my teeth as the shouting and crying grew louder. I remember swallowing the final bite just as the sounds of crashing and shattering glass pierced the night. And I remember picking the last crumbs off my shirt as I heard the front door slam. Salty tears marred the sweetness of the chocolate as Mama’s sobbing echoed through the house, the only sound I would remember hearing for the rest of the night.
It’s been five years since Papa left. I haven’t had a cookie since.
This story is based on What If? Exercise 41: “Peter Rabbit and Adam and Eve: The Elements of Plot”. The exercise is to write a story using four basic plot elements: a prohibition, doing the prohibited, personal/immediate consequences, and long-term/authority consequences. The objective is to become aware of common patterns in storytelling and to understand the importance of basic elements that underlie plots. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Catching Stars
“Check it out! I got one!”
“Lemme see, lemme see!”
“Careful! Don’t let it get away. You got the jar?”
“Right here.”
“Great. Here goes… Quick, shut the lid!”
“Wow, it’s glowing!”
“Look! Here’s another one!”
“And another one! I wanna try!”
“Steady… You got it! Put it in the jar with the others.”
“There’s so many!”
“I told ya, Ginny! Tons of ’em come out in summer!”
“But why? What are they, Tommy?”
“Oh, they’re, um… They’re stars.”
“Stars?”
“Yeah! Every summer, stars fall out of the sky and fly around the fields.”
“But why do they come here?”
“Because they’re, um… they’re looking for love. And there’s lots of it here.”
“There is?”
“Sure! I’ll show you. Close your eyes, Ginny.”
“Tommy! Did you just… kiss me?”
“…Yeah.”
“Does that mean…?”
“Maybe. What do you think?”
“I think… you should close your eyes too.”
“Ginny! So you…?”
“Yes, I do, Tommy.”
“Then I guess they got it right.”
“Me too. I think the stars picked the best place in the world to look for summer love.”
The Catch
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
He had never believed one bite could be his doom.
He had always thought he could never be caught.
But he hadn’t counted on such alluring bait.
Just one little bite set it off.
He thrashed with all his might.
The pulling was too strong.
A painful tug followed.
His mouth hurt.
Too late.
This piece is based on What If? Exercise 93: “Ten to One”. The exercise is to write a 55-word story in which the first sentence has ten words, the second has nine, etc., until the last sentence has only one word. The objective is to show that precision and thrift in writing can produce surprisingly powerful results. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The Chase
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
All she ever wanted was to be one of them.
To become a sister, you must complete a task.
Bring back the necklace hidden in the woods.
They didn’t mention she’d have to run.
The sound of howling terrified her.
The beast was gaining fast.
She reached the gate.
Almost free now.
She pulled…
This piece is based on What If? Exercise 93: “Ten to One”. The exercise is to write a 55-word story in which the first sentence has ten words, the second has nine, etc., until the last sentence has only one word. The objective is to show that precision and thrift in writing can produce surprisingly powerful results. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The Siren’s Retribution
(First place winner of Writer’s Carnival’s Author-less Flash contest!)
“He promised he’d return today.”
Serena stroked the coral comb through her hair for the umpteenth time. Locks of gold will stop a man cold, her mother used to sing.
“Not this year.”
“You don’t know that, Kay.”
“The day’s done. He won’t come this year. Just as he didn’t last, just as he won’t next.”
Serena shot the dolphin a piercing look.
“Fine.” She plucked an oyster from where the waves crashed against the rock and pried it open with the comb to reveal an engraved black pearl. Turning it over in her fingers, she chanted a haunting song until the pearl vanished into dust on the ocean breeze.
“Whose life this year?”
“His sister’s.”
“Too close. Why not just take his and be done with it?”
“He needs to learn his lesson.”
The friends watched the sun sink into the horizon, concealing a ship that would never appear.
“Sailors are too fickle.”
“Dolphins are too cheeky.”
“And mermaids are too spiteful.”
“He’ll come for me. You’ll see.”
A hint of warning in his eyes, Kay disappeared beneath the waves. Serena’s tail glimmered in the twilight as she combed her golden hair, alone.
“He promised.“
The Day I Stopped Caring
The day I stopped caring was the greatest day of my life.
That was the day I heard the voice inside. The voice that set me free.
I used to be terrified of what everyone thought. My life was nothing but overwhelming fear of judgment and humiliation. After every move I made, I would worry about how someone might react. Anyone could be a critic. Everyone’s opinion mattered.
Most nights, I’d cry myself to sleep. All I wanted was to please people, to be accepted. I wanted my actions to mean as much as everyone else’s did.
And then one day, I woke up to the sound of that voice. Not the pretend voice I used to kid myself or make myself feel better. The real voice deep inside that had finally endured enough phoniness and decided to speak up.
It only asked me the one question. But that was exactly what I needed to hear.
“Why do you care?“
Why did I care? Why did I care what people said? Why did I care what people did? Why did I care what people thought? I didn’t know. And when I realized I didn’t have an answer, something incredible happened.
The fear just… disappeared.
Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I no longer felt embarrassed about bad memories that everyone else had long forgotten. I stopped trying to hide the things I liked that nobody else understood. I quit doubting myself and began trusting in my own abilities. And never again did I let anyone laugh at me, because now they were laughing with me.
I had stopped being afraid, and started living life. All because that voice inside had made me realize whose opinion really matters most.
What a liberating day that was.
The day I stopped caring what anyone thinks… but me.
Shade
Did I really have a nightmare? Or did a noise downstairs wake me?
Did I really forget to turn the lights off? Or did they switch back on after I went to sleep?
Did I really leave the door open? Or was it a draft in the hallway?
Did I really move that chair? Or did it push itself across the room?
Did I really sleepwalk through the kitchen? Or did the open fridge empty itself?
Did I really see my own shadow in the mirror? Or was it a phantom?
Am I imagining things? Am I losing my mind?
Or am I not alone?
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The Wolfe's (Writing) Den by J.C. Wolfe is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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